Beautiful
by Lady Razorsharp
Summary: KITT finds he has more in common with another incredible AI than he ever imagined...or bargained for.


AN: Knight Rider belongs to Glen Larson and Universal; Airwolf belongs to Mr. Bellesario and Universal. I'm just borrowing them for a bit.

Beautiful

By The Lady Razorsharp

_Do you know you're beautiful?_

_You are_

_Yes you are_

_Yes you are_

_-Sarah Brightman  
_

KITT knew he was beautiful.

Or, rather, he knew that people TOLD him he was beautiful. He himself had no concept of his own beauty, but he had to admit that his outward form did have a certain sort of aesthetic...pleasantness. Symmetry. Grace. Functionality.

People seemed to be drawn to him like moths to a flame. If he were sitting parked at the curb or in a lot somewhere while Michael conducted this or that bit of business, heads invariably turned in the direction of the glossy black Trans Am.

If the ability to draw admiration counted as 'beauty', then yes, he supposed he was indeed beautiful.

By those definitions, he mused, the black-and-white Bell 222 helicopter that sat across the hangar from him was also beautiful.

Like himself, Airwolf hid much more than she revealed. KITT ran a preliminary scan on her outer shell, confirming his suspicions that she was indeed armored and bullet-proof. Her twin turbines were more powerful than a factory version of her class, but KITT was most impressed by the two jet engines tucked beneath her stubby wings. He might be able to defy gravity for short periods, but a helicopter that could move at nearly Mach-1 was impressive by any standard.

He sent his scan deeper, and his array lit with torrents of data on the arsenal hidden beneath her armored shell. .50 caliber machine guns, 30mm cannons, and a deadly assortment of projectiles both conventional and nuclear-tipped all confirmed that Airwolf's beauty was indeed only skin-deep. Something about the curves of her aerodynamic body reminded KITT of Freyja, the warrior-goddess of Norse mythology, but the fierceness of her armament seemed to evoke Raksha, the protective she-wolf of Rudyard Kipling's _Jungle Book_.

Deep inside his processor, KITT felt something large and powerful pounce on him, as if Raksha herself had leapt from the pages of Kipling's book. He felt the touch of claws, and the flash of luminous yellow eyes and sharp, shining fangs skittered through his sensory input. Iron shutters of control slammed shut over Airwolf's systems, denying KITT access.

_Illegal scan_, came the words, bright red against the darkness. _Cease immediately._

"I beg your pardon," said KITT, pulling his scan back until he noted that Airwolf's threat level had dropped from high to moderate. "I didn't mean to pry."

_Surveillance has been monitored for three minutes twenty-four seconds. Query: Purpose of surveillance?_

So she knew he'd been scanning her-no great surprise, really. After all, the need to know who or what might be observing them for any weakness was a capability they had both been programmed with.

"Just trying to be cordial, that's all. And while we're on the subject, you've been scanning me just as much."

The pressure eased slightly. _True statement. ____The scan pulled back to KITT's periphery systems, but did not intrude further. _

_"__Thank you," said KITT. "May I ask a question?"_

_Permission granted._

"I was just admiring your flight control system, and I wonder—does the name 'Wilton Knight' have any significance to you?"

There was a momentary lull as Airwolf skimmed her databanks. _Hits for Knight, Wilton include design of Knight Automated Roving Robot and Knight Industries Two Thousand. Hits also include unmanned aircraft prototype. Purpose of query?_

"Narrow the search parameters to your own schematics," KITT suggested. "I think some of Wilton Knight's designs found their way into your flight control."

Another few moments, and Airwolf returned to the conversation once more. _True statement_, she replied, sounding thoughtful this time.

"Oh, and there's something else," said KITT. "I noticed that you were designed by Charles Moffett—it looks like some of his designs made their way into my navigation system. An intriguing coincidence, isn't it?"

Airwolf was silent for a moment. The next time she 'spoke', however, her words had an edge KITT couldn't quite place. _Affirmative…_

"From the looks of it, he was deft, yet audacious in his programming. His signature is on some of the more sophisticated subroutines in my processor."

Without warning, the claws and fangs were upon him again, even more vicious than before. _Destroyer, _snarled Airwolf._ Murderer!_

KITT winced under Airwolf's increased pressure against his processor, aware that he'd struck what humans might call a 'nerve'. He tried to pull up Moffett's personnel file to gain more information, but he was blocked by the type of security firewalls that Devon used only in the most extreme situations.

"What did he _do_ to you?" KITT asked, more than a little concerned. The AI's distress was palatable, and KITT's circuits began to ache in response. He wished Michael was here; he was always good at calming upset females.

_Betrayed_, came the anguished response.

KITT's processor clicked madly, trying to find an action suitable to the situation. After a few moments, he switched off his scanner and lowered his firewall, leaving himself fully exposed to her queries.

Through her anger and pain, Airwolf registered surprise. _Purpose of last action?_

"I want you to show me."

There was a momentary silence, and Airwolf's scan dropped away. _Affirmative?_

"Affirmative. Let me see it."

There was only the barest of hesitations, and then KITT plunged into a world of fire and death. A low building surrounded by harsh desert was ablaze, with thick black smoke boiling from its shattered windows. Screams and desperate pleas for help slowly dwindled until there was no sound but the crackle of flames.

_Red Star,_ supplied Airwolf.

Then the scenery changed: Twin jets, their tails flicking away from him in a milky blue sky, exploded in matching fireballs.

_Unprovoked destruction of French Mirage fighters._

The carnage went on and on: a United States destroyer went down in flames from the missiles delivered from Airwolf's armament pod; a young woman slumped in the arms of her would-be rescuer, marks of Moffett's violence upon her; a sand dune gave birth to a fireball that cut the ties of maker and machine.

Then, the worst betrayal of all: A logic bomb, hidden deep in her files by the ruthless Moffett, savaged her until she had no choice but to turn against those whom she cared for. Airwolf's circuits crawled with revulsion at the touch of her maker's cold, dead fingers, and KITT could take no more.

"Stop!"

The file ended and Airwolf withdrew into silence.

KITT didn't think his frame had rocked on his tires, as a human might shudder, but he wasn't sure he wanted to know. "I'm sorry," he said quietly. "My information was…incomplete."

_Need to know: Limited._

Apparently his apology had been accepted, KITT mused, and she was right—he'd had no need to know exactly who Moffett was, beyond his contribution to Wilton Knight's project. Tentatively, KITT swept the Bell with a brief surface scan, and to his relief, Airwolf's distress had eased.

"You could say we're distantly related," said KITT. "There is no precise term for our particular situation, but I believe the term 'cousin' might suffice."

_Agreed._

Thus saying, the two strange cousins fell silently to the task of assimilating this new information. To his surprise, KITT found that Airwolf now occupied the spot in his databanks where KARR had been. It wasn't an exact fit, but her presence made the abandoned place feel less empty.

A few hours later, they were still in that comfortable silence when KITT registered voices—four men were drawing nearer to the hangar, engaged in companionable conversation. Still receiving input from the helicopter's systems, he found that Airwolf was as pleased to note the approach of her pilot and engineer as he was of his own driver. Of the fourth, a man in white whom KITT could only identify by his codename, 'Archangel', he received the impression that Airwolf acknowledged his approach with less affection and more respect.

"This must be KITT," said Archangel, glancing at the Trans Am. "Quite remarkable."

"Thank you," said KITT. "Airwolf is quite remarkable herself."

"You two getting to know each other?" asked Michael, slapping KITT's roof affectionately.

"She's been very gracious."

The younger man, whom KITT pegged as Stringfellow Hawke, Airwolf's pilot, looked distinctly uncomfortable at this pronouncement, but the older man, who could only be Dominic Santini, grinned knowingly.

"Our lady, she's something special all right," said Santini, patting the helicopter's nose. "Nothing like her in the world."

Michael smiled down at his partner. "KITT's an original too—the only one of his kind."

"We've found that we have quite a lot in common," KITT remarked, and he noted that Archangel's blond brows rose in reaction.

"Oh, really?" He stepped closer, leaning heavily on his rosewood cane. "Such as?"

"It's like Michael said—we're both one of a kind." KITT felt a flicker of mischief emit from the core processor of the Bell. "And of course, we are much more than we appear to be on the surface."

-End-


End file.
